


Philadelphia

by Medie



Category: The Pretender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never asks why. It's his one redeeming feature. Lyle knows exactly why she's doing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philadelphia

It feels good when she shoots him. Through the scope, she watches him fall; sees his knees buckle as he slowly slumps to the concrete. It's dark, the night vision lighting him an eerie green. No one sees him crumple beside his car.

She smiles, slow and satisfied. Packing the gun away, she reflects on her sole disappointment. It should have been a bullet.

-

He's actually a handsome man. In another life, she thinks she'd be attracted to him. His looks could be considered boyish. She looks down at him, sedated and lying in a puddle. He breathes out, sending ripples skimming across the dirty water.

She nudges him with one boot, pushing him over. If she wanted, she could leave him here. There's rain in the forecast. She can already feel the promise of it hanging heavy in the air. If she leaves him now, he could drown.

Pursing her lips, she thinks about it.

"No," she decides, "too easy."

-

Getting him into the trunk of her car isn't easy. It's quite awkward, but she's been practising. A weighted dummy dressed in Armani - for authenticity - is waiting on the floor of her garage. She wonders if she should introduce them.

The idea is enough to make her laugh. The dummy deserves better.

She thinks she could be crazy, but knows she's not. It would be an escape to be crazy. She's had too many escapes already. It's a luxury she can't afford herself.

Not with her brothers still out there. Not with this man chasing them all.

-

The warehouse is run down and abandoned. No one's set foot in it for nigh a decade. Isolated and forgotten. Just what she needs. She drives inside and parks near the pole. From what she's read in the Centre's reports, it's close enough. He should appreciate the irony. If he doesn't, she will.

She dumps him out. It's easier than getting him in. Still unconscious, he offers no resistence. He rolls out of the trunk and falls to the dusty floor with a thump.

"That's going to bruise in the morning," she muses without sympathy.

Sympathy she reserves for those who deserve it. This man surrendered that right a long time ago.

-

When she comes back, she hears him yelling. Listening to the obscenity-laden words, she shakes her head. "No one will answer you."

He twists, trying to look over his shoulder. "Who's there?"

"No one," she returns. "Just us chickens."

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks, more demand than question. His smooth charm is gone. But then, all night handcuffed to a pole with no one but cockroaches and rats for company...that would make anyone cranky. Though, she supposes, considering the company he keeps, he's right at home.

"You really don't know?" she asks. "That's funny, isn't it?""

"I'm sorry, but I'm not seeing the humor," he snaps.

"Well, you wouldn't," she says. Venturing forward, she walks a circle around the pole. Careful to stay out of his reach, she watches his face as she comes into sight. The shock transmuting into sick realization is quite satisfying.

Emily sits down, opening the paper bag she's brought with her. "You've been looking for me, Mr. Lyle." She takes out two egg McMuffins. Unfolding a napkin, she rests them atop it. His eyes fall on the food. His stomach grumbles loudly. She pulls out a cup of coffee and takes a slow sip. "Still miss the humor, Mr. Lyle? Caught by the woman you've been chasing for months..." she smiles. "I always did appreciate irony."

She looks at him. "I would've thought you did too." Leaning forward, Emily meets his gaze. "Let me guess. My brother took your sister from you, so you decided to return the favor."

"Jarod didn't take Parker from me," Lyle says.

"Yes, he did." Emily smiles. "We talk sometimes. Not much. Regular communication is risky, but we talk." She looks into her coffee. Snippets of conversations that are all too brief. Nothing can make up for the lifetime they've lost. "He talks about her all the time. You must hate him."

"We're not exactly friends."

"You want to kill him."

"Wouldn't lose sleep if I did."

Emily nods. "You won't." She picks up the McMuffin, bringing it to his mouth. "Eat." She waits for him to take a bite. "I'm not going to kill you, Lyle. It's not in my nature." She pauses. "Well, not yet."

She wipes crumbs from his chin. It's almost tender, except her stomach lurches in protest.

"Then..." he swallows. "What?"

She shrugs. "We'll see."

-

He never asks why. It's his one redeeming feature. Lyle knows exactly why she's doing this.

-

She sends Jarod an email. It's a picture of Lyle and two words.

"Happy Birthday."

-

She'll let him decide.


End file.
